A Surprising Evening
by Tiara Moss
Summary: Just a little S&V story that I found on my computer from a long time ago. Happens after The Box, Part 2.


The docks were empty. Sydney stood against the wall, her arms dangling at her sides in despair. There were tears in her eyes, but she tried her best to hide them from Michael. It was in vain though because he saw them and went to her side to comfort her. But as he put an arm around her, she pulled away.

"I'm fine, Michael," she said, though they both knew she was lying.

"No you're not, Sydney." Vaughn pulled her into his arms and hugged her tight. Sydney's heart began to race. "You've just gone through something no one should have to go through. You found out that your mother was KGB. You just spent yesterday trying to save the very enemy you're fighting to shut down. You've had quite a shock. And it's okay for you to cry. I'm here for you."

"I know," she sobbed. Tears ran down her cheeks and onto Vaughn's shoulder.

They stood there for what seemed forever, holding each other and watching the water flow as freely as Sydney's tears. Then Michael seemed to get an idea.

He pulled away from her and put his hands on her shoulders. "Sydney, I know that this is probably out of line and it's completely unethical, but I want you to come with me."

"Where?" She jumped as he grabbed her hand.

"You'll just have to find out when we get there." And having said that he dragged her to his car.

O>

Michael's apartment was large but cozy and inviting. It was white inside with a brick fireplace, two bedrooms, a good-sized kitchen and a bathroom. The living room seemed to be someone else's. It had never occurred to her that her ex-handler had any decorating taste at all and, as she sat on the green velvet sofa, she realized that she had gotten him all wrong.

It was sort of uncomfortable for her. He didn't seem the type of man that would take a woman home at the spur of the moment. What kind of girl did he think she was, anyway? _Probably the desperate kind,_ she thought bitterly. What exactly was he planning?

Michael had been in the kitchen for quite some time now. She could hear the occasional pot or pan and a few expletives as well. She looked the room over carefully, trying to absorb every detail, trying to find the missing pieces to the puzzle that was Michael Vaughn. Although they had become very close over the past few months, they really knew nothing about each other. From what she could gather from the potted plants, the green velvet furniture, the ornate cabinets and oriental rugs, she had a lot of catching up to do.

Her favorite thing about Michael's living room was the cherry wood rocking chair in the corner. It was carved with little wooden animals on the top and in its seat was a green afghan, one that looked like it had been made a long time ago. She guessed by the rips, tears, and holes that it had been very special to someone, maybe even Vaughn himself.

A loud "Damn!" erupted from the kitchen as glass shattered. Sydney stood up just as Michael came in. He was bleeding.

"Are you okay?" She gasped, rushing to his side.

"I'm fine. Really Sydney. I just broke a dish, that's all. I've got a first aid kit in the bathroom. I can fix it up in no time." He started to leave.

"Do you need any help?" She asked, worried.

"I'll be fine!" He called over his shoulder as he walked down the hall to the bathroom.

She watched him leave and then went to sit down again but something caught her eye. A painting stood in the corner opposite the rocking chair. It was turned away from her so she couldn't see what it was. She waited until she heard the water in the bathroom running to make her move. Carefully walking across the room she picked the painting up and turned it around. It was a painting of Michael. He looked a bit younger, but not by much. The initials on the bottom said M. V.

"So, I see you found me out."

Sydney jumped a mile at the voice behind her. She turned, cheeks burning, to see Michael standing behind her.

"You did this?" She asked in awe.

"Guilty as charged. I used to paint in college. It was just something to do. I ended up giving most of my works to friends and family." He took the portrait from her and looked it over carefully.

"What about this one?"

"This one? I gave it to an ex-girlfriend of mine. When we broke up she gave it back." There was something in his voice that gave away the fact that he was lying. She was about to ask him when they heard a **_DING!_** "That would be my other guilty pleasure." He set the painting down and rushed into the kitchen. He came back a few minutes later with two plates full of macaroni and cheese and two glasses of wine. "This is what my mother used to make me when I was afraid or sad. Of course, hers' was homemade, while mine is Kraft©."

He kicked off his shoes and urged Sydney to do the same. Then he set the plates and drinks down on the table in front of them and walked over to his entertainment center. He searched through his video rack until he found what he was looking for. He stuck it in the VCR and then went to sit by Sydney.

"The perfect cure to any troubles," he said as he held up the video case. "My favorite movie…"

"_Peter Pan!_" She was shocked. "You know Michael, there is so much that I don't know about you."

"Well then ask me," he insisted as the movie began in the background. "We've got all night."

O>

The next morning Sydney woke up in Michael's guest room wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants that she couldn't remember putting on. In the background she could hear three things: the news on the television, a sizzling sound she presumed to be bacon, and Michael talking. Since there were no other voices, she knew that he was on the phone with someone.

Sitting up and wrapping the flowered comforter around her, she thought back to the night before, smiling as she remembered Michael, _Peter Pan_, and the impromptu dinner they had had. She had found out so many things about her fellow CIA officer that she would never have suspected.

He had talked all night, getting what seemed, to Sydney, to be a burden off of his chest. There was anger at his father's death, sadness for Sydney having found out the truth about her mother, fears for her life and for her work against SD-6, and even a little optimism for the future. Everything, past and present, came out. But she still couldn't help thinking that he was hiding something from her.

He would talk freely about almost anything and then Sydney would bring up the girlfriend he had mentioned earlier and he would clam up. Other than that, he was honest and open, revealing sometimes-embarrassing facts about himself. Like the time when he was twelve and had gotten his finger stuck in a bottle of Coca-Cola© and it took the paramedics two hours to get it out of the bottle because they were afraid they would break it. Or, when he was a sophomore in college and had gotten drunk at a party and threw up on his date.

She had realized for the first time that Michael wasn't just an agent; he was a person, too. It surprised her also that she was attracted by that. In some ways he reminded her of Danny. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes again and she swallowed a few times to keep them from spilling out. But as hard as she tried she could not keep a few from sneaking out and tiptoeing down her smooth cheek, trying to find the shortest path to her shirt where they could hide from Michael who was knocking on the door.

She wiped the tears away and said, "Come in!"

Michael opened the door a crack just to make sure she was decent then came in, a tray loaded with food in his hands.

"Morning, Syd." He smiled, walking to the side of the bed and kneeling beside her. "Did you sleep okay?" She nodded. "I'm sorry that I didn't wake you up and take you home, but you fell asleep on the couch and I knew you'd had a rough week." He put the tray on the bed.

"Don't worry about it." Sydney replied, tearing into her bacon, eggs, toast, orange juice and coffee.

"And I hope you don't mind that I changed your cloth-"

"It's okay!" She insisted. "Believe me, if there's anyone that I trust in this world anymore, it's you." She put down her fork and grabbed his hand with hers. "You saved my butt the other day, risking your job for me. And your life as well. Not to mention that you could've blown the lid off of our operation."

"Your operation, remember? Haladki's operation. I'm no longer your handler." Michael pulled his hand away as if he thought someone was watching him.

Sydney didn't want to think about that. "So, um, who called this morning?"

"Langley. I've got to be at work in an hour." She nodded and he gave her a sympathetic look. "I'm glad you decided not to quit. It wouldn't be the same without you."

"Well, I just sort of realized that my place is with SD-6 and the CIA. And you know I actually felt sorry for all of them. Even Sloane. I mean the man let my father break his… his finger off just to keep SD-6 and it's agents safe."

"Do you really believe that, Syd? Do you really think that he gave a damn about those agents? He was just trying to keep his vault contents safe."

"You didn't see him, Michael. He was really shaken up."

"The man had just lost a finger. He was probably going into shock."

"I saw what I saw! I saw him Michael." She got out of bed and walked down the hall towards the bathroom. Michael followed her. "Do you mind letting me go to the bathroom in private?" She asked as she closed the door.

He caught it before it slammed in his face. "We had the perfume analyzed." He paused. "It turned out to be a coetaneous poison. One spray and you're dead within a half hour."

Sydney's breath came out in short spurts for about thirty seconds. "I'm just telling you, I saw what I saw."

"Fine. You saw what you saw. But I saw what I saw, too. Who knows what Sloane was going to do with that poison, who he might have been planning to sell it to?" His voice turned softer. "Now look, Syd, I have to get going. I want you to be careful. Maybe you could even ask Sloane for a few days off."

"Maybe I will." But as the words were leaving her lips she heard her pager beep. Dashing into Michael's guest room she found it among a pile of her clothes, which were lying on a chair. On the screen were the words: 911-SLOANE.

"Is that…?"

"Yeah. It is. I've got to go." She got dressed quickly and then headed out the front door.

"Sydney?" Vaughn said, as she was about to leave.

"Yeah?"

"I'd like to do this again." He smiled at her.

She smiled back. "So would I."

And then she was gone.


End file.
